


you made it a joke (that's how the fun ends)

by ariastarke



Series: Love's a Gun [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 7 weddings and no funerals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:35:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariastarke/pseuds/ariastarke
Summary: In between weddings, she supposes they’re little more than strangers passing in the night. But the few hours they manage to steal together are enough to convince Arya they could be something more.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Series: Love's a Gun [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670050
Comments: 48
Kudos: 195





	you made it a joke (that's how the fun ends)

**Author's Note:**

> What do we want? Mutual pining! When do we want it? Mutual pining!
> 
> It would be anything but right to start this fic off without saying this concept was formed after reading [this amazing fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4502682) which is the first fic I ever read told through weddings. Go read it, it's a stunner.
> 
> Please, enjoy my take on a not-so-casual agreement between an Arya and Gendry who aren't quite friends but clearly want to be something more, all told between seven separate weddings over the course of about six and a half years? I can't do math—enjoy!
> 
> Also, a big huge thank you to Yana who gave me her thoughts wedding by wedding (except the last one, which remains a surprise to her) and was there to cheer this fic on. You're a star, I don't think I would have posted this fic, probably ever, if I hadn't shown it to another person, and I'm very happy that person was you <3
> 
> Title is from the song Hey Boys (Reprise) from Love's Labour's Lost. Please enjoy the playlist I made while writing this story: [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6uZVTl5KZtQ2yZrXR7j1Di?si=P9ckoY4oT0iFmUWq4u_vGA)

_Love's a play._

_You know the plot:_

_It's a comedy...or that's what people say._

_Curtain up,_

_You hear your cue._

_Boys meet girls and then hijinks ensue—_

_It happens every day._

( O O O )

**1\. Robb and Jeyne—July 20, 2012**

The first time Arya had ever attended a wedding was her aunt Lysa's second wedding when she was nine years old. It held no significant value to her. She had been so disinterested in the whole affair that eight years later, she could barely remember anything about it. She recalled feeling very uncomfortable because it was bright and sunny outside but her dress was silk and very stuffy, and she was pretty sure there was a point when her mother took her outside to scold her for trying to take off her tights in the bathroom.

But this was her brother's wedding, and it held a lot more meaning for her than her aunt's.

It wasn't difficult to feel the way Jeyne was trembling underneath Arya's quick fingers as she braided her hair, and after sneaking a peek at her expression through the mirror, she saw that while her makeup was still perfect, Jeyne looked like she was going to start crying at any moment. When Arya tugged a bit too hard on a piece of her hair, Jeyne inhaled sharply and her eyes met Arya's through the vanity's mirror. She gave a shaky smile while Arya picked a bobby pin from the vanity and slid it into place.

"You look nervous," she said, stating the obvious even as Jeyne looked like she could use a bit of comfort.

"Just a bit," Jeyne replied, her eyes going back to her reflection.

"It looks like more than just a bit. If you don't stop twitching, I'm going to have to restart."

Jeyne considered Arya carefully through the mirror, watching how her fiance's youngest sister continued to style her hair with ease, but her shoulders were tense. It was as if she'd set up a defensive stance against Jeyne, worried that she would run out on the wedding before she even made it to the altar. It couldn't have been an accident that Arya jabbed the back of Jeyne's head with the next bobby pin before setting it in its rightful place.

She waited until Arya had finished the waterfall braid and secured the bun at the nape of her neck before she turned towards her. Arya had begun putting the tin of bobby pins, hairspray, and everything else she'd used back into the bag of hair supplies she'd brought along with her. She was careful not to look at Jeyne while she cleaned away, only moving methodically through the process.

It's only when the dressing room is cleaner than it was when they first arrived and Arya has nothing else to do that she places the bag of hair supplies by the door and walks back to the mirror. If her own hair hadn't been done already with perfect precision and attention to detail, she would have started braiding it just to give her hands something to do.

"I love your brother," Jeyne declares.

Arya can't help thinking that even with all the devotion in her voice, the brutal honesty she speaks with...she's still shaking.

Arya glances up at Jeyne, eyebrows raised. "Well, I would hope so. You are marrying him today, after all."

Jeyne offers Arya a slight smile before choosing her next words carefully. "You know, on your own wedding day…you're also going to be nervous—"

"I don't need you to tell me that. I know it's scary. I'm seventeen, I'm not stupid."

Arya looked back at Jeyne, her expression void of any dishonesty. She saw the slight surprise on Jeyne's face, though—even after having years to get used to the bluntness Arya showed so often, she was still taken aback sometimes. "If you weren't in love with Robb, you wouldn't have lasted until today. I just don't think you should forget which family you're marrying into. We're all very protective of each other."

Jeyne surprised Arya by giving her a genuine smile. "I know. It's one of the reasons I love your family. It's big and open and you all love each other so much. I'd never hurt Robb," she promised. "Especially not when I know I'd have to watch out for you if I did."

Arya fought the smirk that threatened to come up. "Well, as long as we've got that settled."

And with that, she stood up, just in time for Sansa to come breezing in through the door in a floor-length cobalt dress almost identical to the one that Arya was wearing, both picked out by Jeyne. Half of her hair had been styled into an elaborately braided bun on the crown of her head while the rest hung down her back in long red waves.

"Oh, good, you finished Jeyne's hair. You look beautiful, both of you."

Catelyn followed Sansa into the room, already looking like she was going to start crying when she saw all three girls standing together. "Oh, wow," she said softly, her eyes falling on her two daughters and the woman who would be joining her family in less than an hour.

"How do I look?" Jeyne asked nervously, smoothing down the skirt of her gown. Arya noticed her hands were shaking.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Catelyn reassured her, taking her arm and linking their elbows together.

Arya knew how much that small gesture meant to Jeyne, and, more importantly, how much it would have meant to Robb if he had seen it. Though initially hesitant to accept Jeyne into the folds of their tight-knit family, especially when she had first started going out with Robb at a rather young age, it was hard to deny the love they had for each other. She had known Jeyne since she was just ten years old when Robb was fifteen and Jeyne was fourteen, and she used to roll her eyes at how Sansa would sigh over how cute they looked when they'd sneak over to the windows and watch Ned drive them to the movie theater for a date. She remembered the day Robb had gotten his own car and the first person who had taken a ride in it had been Jeyne, and she recalled spying on them from the window and catching Jeyne kiss him longer than any of the others she'd seen them share. She'd watched their relationship unfold as she grew up, from Robb nervously reaching out to hold Jeyne's hand over the table instead of under it at family dinners to him kissing her for the first time in front of their parents five months into their relationship. She had been there the day Robb proposed to Jeyne in a restaurant he'd rented out for the night, promising to love her for the rest of her life, promising to care for her and provide for her. Arya had never heard someone say yes with as much confidence as Jeyne had at that moment.

And yet, somehow, she still looking terrified, and the sight of it was enough to shake Arya to her core.

"I just managed to sneak into the boys' room to see how they're all doing," Cat said, still holding on to Jeyne. "They all look wonderful, but no one holds a candle to you, dear."

Arya can barely hear the conversation when her eyes are trained like a hawk on the way Jeyne's collarbone strains against her neck while she holds her breath, trying to hide it under a bright smile. Even though there's genuine happiness, Arya manages to find the cracks in Jeyne's armor, and she makes a note to tell Sansa to give Jeyne a pep talk before she has to walk down the aisle.

Then again, Arya thinks, knowing Sansa, she's already seen Jeyne's nervousness and has a speech planned to comfort Jeyne, complete with supporting ideas and facts.

"Are all the groomsmen there?" Jeyne asks, gripping Catelyn's hands tightly within her own. They look so similar, Arya ponders, matching French manicures and pale, long fingers. The only difference is that Cat's finger boasts a thin gold band and the engagement ring from her husband, while Jeyne's own ring finger on her left hand only bears the weight of a beautiful engagement ring that Sansa herself had helped Robb choose. "Are they ready?"

Cat nods, rubbing soothing circles along Jeyne's hand with her thumbs. "Yes, they're all preparing. Robb is practicing his vows, Jon is trying to keep Robb away from the alcohol, Theon is trying to push him towards it, and Gendry is trying to convince him that his tux does in fact fit. If you thought this room was hectic, you should see theirs."

"I'd rather I didn't," Jeyne admitted ruefully.

Arya's eyes flicker towards her mother at the mention of Gendry but she quickly looks away. She had known that Gendry would be one of Robb's groomsmen, but until today, the idea of seeing him again for the first time in three years had seemed like a distant concept that she wouldn't have to worry about for a long while.

She isn't exactly proud of how her stomach clenches. She's _not_ a silly girl with a crush anymore. It's at that moment, in the midst of Sansa fussing with some last minute details on Jeyne's dress while Catelyn dabs delicately at her eyes with a small handkerchief, that she promises herself she won't let this day turn her into a nervous teenager who can't get a word out in front of her crush. Because she hasn't seen Gendry since she was fourteen and she's had years to get past the days where she used to try sneaking looks over at him while he played video games with Robb and Jon.

It's a promise she intends to keep.

( O O O )

Even though Arya knows more than anything that weddings are supposed to be fun and happy, she still starts to feel agitated the second the photographer lets them go after taking pictures of just the wedding party and parents. Everyone starts to file into the ballroom for the reception, and as she hangs behind, turning towards the bathroom that's just outside the door, she hears Robb and Jeyne making their first grand entrance as a married couple. Smiling slightly to herself, all she can hope for them is that they both manage to eat something before the night is over.

Just as she pushes open the door to the ladies' room, Willas Tyrell comes out of the men's room and smiles at her, but even she can tell it's not the most genuine smile she's seen tonight.

"Willas?" she asks, letting the door handle go as she walks over to him. "Everything okay?"

Leaning heavily on his crutch, Willas looks down at her oddly. "Yeah. I just…it's fine."

He's about to turn around, but Arya puts a hand on his elbow to stop him. "Is everything okay with Sansa?"

She hadn't seen any hint today of Sansa feeling put off by any wedding blues, but she also had never been incredibly close with her sister. By the look on Willas's face, though, something had to be going wrong.

"Do you think she's happy?"

The question took Arya by surprise. She blinked several times, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "Is Sansa happy?" she repeated. "I mean…yeah."

"Do you think she wants to get married now?"

Arya let out a small laugh and raised one eyebrow. "I think Sansa has wanted a wedding for a long time, but whether or not she wants to get married now…I just—isn't that between you two?"

"What do you think of this ring?"

The abruptness of the question took Arya by surprise even though she should have seen it coming from the course of their conversation. She looks down at the picture Willas has pulled up on his phone. The engagement ring is a simple braided silver band with diamonds set in the metal. The simplicity of it is a bit striking to Arya at first, but the longer she looks at it, the easier it is to picture it on Sansa's finger.

"When are you planning on proposing?" she asked, her eyes still on the picture.

Willas pockets his phone and looks nervously at her. "Maybe next week? Maybe after Jeyne and Robb get back from their honeymoon? I don't want her to think I'm only proposing because of this wedding. I want her to know…I mean, she _has_ to _know_ …"

"She'll know it's because it's what you want," Arya says firmly. "You'll be fine."

She's trying to think of more encouraging words when Sansa herself comes out of the ballroom, smiling brightly. "Willas!" she calls, running over to them as fast as her heels can allow her. Compared to Arya, Sansa could probably race laps around her in those shoes. "They have your favorite—salmon. Come on, you barely ate today." She slipped her elbow through his and looked at her sister. "You coming, Arya?"

Arya takes a second to respond, caught up by picturing the two of them standing underneath an altar, pledging to love each other for the rest of their lives, and she's not at all surprised at how easy the image comes to her.

"I'll catch up soon. Just have to go to the bathroom first."

It isn't until after she takes her seat at a table next to her father that Arya realizes she probably should have wished Willas luck, but she doesn't think he'll even need it.

 _First Robb, now Sansa, too_ , Arya thought to herself. Would she go through everyone's weddings by herself, or would she get to bring a date at some point? A thought that Arya never thought she'd worry about, but she'd heard that weddings were when people often had their existential crises. Tomorrow, she'd wake up and it would be so far from her mind that she wouldn't even remember it, but now, all Arya could think about was that she was running out of time and it didn't matter if she'd never feel that way again. It mattered now, and she wished it didn't.

( O O O )

It's not as hard as she would have thought to keep her promise to herself.

She's standing against the bar by herself, watching Robb and Jeyne share their first dance together, their arms wrapped tightly around each other like they're trying to shield each other from the crowd watching them, to make sure this moment is just the two of them and no one matters.

"You got taller."

Arya turns to the side and sees Gendry, standing in front of her with a glass of whiskey in his hand, smiling down at her.

"I'm not sure if you're joking," she begins, "but in case you are, I'll have you know I grew two inches the year you went to college."

Gendry raises his eyebrows and gives her a once-over that has Arya repeating her promise over and over in her head. "And since then?" he asks.

She looks back at the dance floor. "I might have stayed the same height since then."

He laughs and finishes the rest of his whiskey. "Think they're happy?" He motions his head towards her brother and his wife.

Arya gives him a weird look. "Are you kidding? I've never seen Robb smile like that. They're going to last forever."

Gendry looks down at her with a strange look on his face, cocking his head slightly to the side, but then he turns back to face the dance floor, too, and then it's too late for her to think too much of it. They stand together in a silence that isn't all that uncomfortable, which Arya is eternally grateful for.

"You look nice tonight," he says, breaking the silence. "Can't remember the last time I saw you in a dress."

"Probably Robb and Jon's graduation party," she replies, and she wants to go back in time and say thank you instead.

"Probably. I vaguely remember you had gotten into a fight with your mother and said there was no reason you had to dress how she wanted because you were a grown woman and could do what you liked." He's not even bothering to hide his laughter, but he also doesn't seem to notice the hints of Arya's blush.

She doesn't let her slight discomfort show, choosing instead to keep her eyes on the guests trickling couple by couple on to the dance floor to join Robb and Jeyne as their song slowly faded out and the band began to play a different one. On the other side of the room, she sees Sansa kiss Willas on the cheek before taking Theon's extended hand and heading towards the dance floor with him.

"Do you think they'll get married any time soon?"

Arya turns to Gendry and sees he was also watching Willas and Sansa. Thinking about the conversation she'd had with Willas only an hour ago, she nods. "Definitely."

"I assume you'll end up as maid of honor," he says conversationally.

In the back of her mind, behind all the questions she has about why he's still standing here talking to her when he could be with Jon, she wonders whether or not Sansa would ask her to be her maid of honor. Years of petty fights that had spiraled into bitter grudges had slowly given way to a flimsy sort of peace that was stretched taut between the two of them at all times. Once Sansa had moved in with Willas, their relationship seemed to have improved, but Arya still didn't like feeling as if she were walking on broken glass whenever she spoke to her sister. It was something that the two of them had been actively trying to fix for months, but who could say what was to come by the time Willas and Sansa were the ones sharing their first dance in front of all their friends and family?

"I would like to be," Arya replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"Really?"

"She's my sister," she said, as if that was an explanation for everything.

"I hope you're right. About them getting married soon, I mean," Gendry said in response to Arya's questioning look. "Sansa's wedding would be a sight to behold, don't you think?"

"Oh, I know it. She's been planning her wedding since she was six years old."

A waiter comes by with an empty tray and places it on the bar, beginning to stock up on more glasses of champagne. Gendry takes two and passes one to Arya, clinking his against hers.

"I think I see Jon arguing with Ygritte over there," he said, looking over Arya's shoulder.

She spins around and, sure enough, Jon and Ygritte are sitting together, alone at a table. She's gesturing wildly while he looks at her with a stony expression on his face, clearly unhappy with what she has to say. "Are they going to break up again?" she asked sadly.

Gendry shrugs, taking a sip of his champagne. "Probably. It'll be the fourth time this year. They have to stick to one or the other eventually."

Arya bites her lip, thinking of how happy Jon seemed whenever he spoke about Ygritte. "I hope they work things out. They've been dating for three years, it wouldn't be right if it just ended now," she said softly.

"And they've broken up about ten times in those three years," Gendry pointed out.

"He's willing to give her the world on a silver platter if she'd take it," Arya said.

"And Ygritte isn't exactly used to that. You can't be surprised that she's a little reluctant to trust him."

"If she's not ready to trust him after three years of him being totally committed to her, then maybe _he's_ the one who should be reluctant."

Arya liked Ygritte, she really did. She enjoyed the way she never treated her like a kid and there were many times she'd helped Arya out with issues she hadn't been comfortable enough to approach her mother, or God forbid, Sansa, with. But though Jon was her cousin, he was raised like her brother, and she thought of him as nothing but.

"You know I hope they work it out, too. But right now, things don't seem to be going so well. I'm gonna go do some damage control." His goodbye comes in the form of putting a hand on her bare shoulder for a brief moment as he passes by on the way to Jon's table.

And Arya can feel it for the rest of the night.

**2\. Sansa and Willas—March 4, 2015**

The way Sansa looks at Willas while they take their wedding photos makes Arya's stomach clench almost painfully. It's a look that fills her mother's eyes up with tears and Ned has to clear his throat before turning the other way when Willas leans in for a kiss that Sansa returns with no hesitation. A lesser person would write off the emotion on their faces as staged, just a show for the photographer to get the shot he wants, but Arya's seen Sansa at her worst even when she tried to hide it, and she's also seen her at her best. And this...this is her best. The camera continues to click away but you would have thought they were the only two people in the room with the way their eyes hardly ever leave each other. It's strange how one person can make you feel weightless as if nothing else could ever touch you.

Arya doesn't know how that feels. Sure, she feels kind of bad about breaking up with Edric a week before the wedding, but it's only because she realized she'd stayed with him _just_ to bring him as her date. She's done some mean things in her life, but taking someone to an immediate family member's wedding as your date was a pretty serious move, and she just can't imagine letting him believe there was anywhere else for them to go after Sansa and Willas said their vows. All that's left for her to do is count her lucky starts that Catelyn hadn't given her any grief over it.

By the time the photos are finished, Sansa is flushed with excitement and joy. Arya joins the rest of her family to tell them congratulations before they head toward the rest of the party that had gathered following the ceremony. Sansa and Willas immediately gravitate towards their table to get something to eat before guests start crowding around them and Arya finds herself drifting around the outskirts of the open area, watching from the edges as she usually does when she feels out of place.

It's not very often that she chose _not_ to be in the thick of a celebration—she would always like to stick to her father's side at parties just so she could meet whoever he was talking to and be a part of the conversation, but today, Arya is comfortable to sit and watch.

Remembering when Willas had thrust the picture of the engagement ring under Arya's nose at Robb's wedding, she also recalled how she had watched them so carefully for the next two months, wondering when she would see Sansa with that same ring on her finger. After four months with no wedding announcement, she'd gotten worried but had refused to meddle in their relationship by asking either of them. It wasn't her place.

And then came the day when, only a month ago, almost three years after Robb's wedding, Sansa had gathered both the Starks and the Tyrells together and announced that she would be getting married in March in a small wedding and they were all allowed one guest each.

Over the course of Sansa's wedding planning frenzy, Arya had managed to piece together the events of the past three years: Willas had, in fact, proposed to Sansa just three months after Robb's wedding but they had both agreed not to tell anyone until they had settled on a date and had bought a place of their own. Apparently, by agreeing not to tell anyone, that meant not even wearing the engagement ring. Ned was the only person who knew of their engagement since Willas had asked him for permission the night before he had proposed. And suddenly, it seemed like every single obstacle imaginable had found its way in between Sansa and Willas and their dream wedding—his father had gotten violently ill the week before they were supposed to book a venue in Spain, Sansa had gotten a job at a studio for interior design and was always too busy planning someone else's dream home to worry about hers, Willas had given Margaery the money to invest in her fashion line. Something had always come up and then came the day when Sansa had decided if they kept letting things get in their way, they'd never get married.

The wedding had ended up taking place in a large garden Sansa had booked the day she'd told them she was getting married, and she and Willas had invited only their closest friends and family. Looking around the garden, Arya realized that there wasn't a single person she didn't recognize there.

It was so unlike Sansa, and yet...Arya could see that her sister looked like she had finally found peace.

( O O O )

It's less than an hour into the reception when she sees him for the first time.

She's slightly confused by Gendry's presence but she chooses to ignore it in favor of giving him a small wave when their eyes meet from across the garden. He waves back, smiling back at her and motioning with his head towards Jon, who's currently slumped over the counter of the bar that had been set up, and suddenly she understands. After Robb's wedding, she'd heard through Bran, who somehow seemed to know everything, that Jon and Ygritte had decided to move in together. Before Arya was able to get upset at him for not telling her, before they even found a place they both agreed on, they had broken up yet again. There had been a brief moment when they had gotten back together, but it had ended as quickly as it had come and they had been separated for almost a year now. Jon must have decided to bring Gendry as his guest to keep him company in a place where he wasn't all that close with any of the guests, or at least keep him from trying to call Ygritte on a day when he felt too much love around him to resist.

Arya gives him a nod of understanding and turns away just in time for Sansa to appear and sit beside her.

"How's the chicken?" she asks, twirling an empty champagne flute by the thin stem.

Taking another bite of it, Arya gives her a thumbs up. "It's good. You chose a pretty decent menu for someone who had only a few weeks to put this together."

Sansa shrugged and set the glass on the table. "I didn't want a spectacle," she explains.

" _That_ does not sound like my sister in the slightest." It came out as a joke, but Arya is completely serious.

Sansa shoots her a look. "Ha ha." She gives Arya a slight kick to her ankle that's exposed thanks to the dress she's wearing that only comes to her knees. "I'm serious. I like this a lot better. It saves me more money that I get to spend on building a home with the love of my life."

Arya cocks her head to the side, imagining what it would be like to say words like those so effortlessly. She pretends it doesn't bother her when she can't. "I'm happy for you," she says genuinely.

Sansa smiles. "I know. Thank you. And thanks for not letting it slip for two whole years that Willas wanted to propose to me." At Arya's surprised look, she brushes it off with a wave of her hand. "Oh, he told me a while ago. I was shocked you could keep something like that to yourself for so long."

"It's not like it matters, though. You were engaged the whole time; I just had no clue."

"Yeah, but you could have said something about the ring. But you didn't." Her right hand automatically goes to twist the wedding band she'd just added to her finger. Arya isn't sure she's aware what she's doing. "Thanks."

"No problem. You got married in the end. That's what counts, isn't it?"

With a grin that lights up her whole face, Sansa stands up. "Yep. Don't drink too much champagne, will you? It's a lot easier to notice if you get tipsy when there are fewer guests for Mom and Dad to get distracted with."

And with that, she spins around, her red hair flying behind her, and goes back to her husband.

( O O O )

The sky is just starting to darken when Arya finds herself sitting at a table with Jon, who had been alternating in between stages of elated bachelorhood and brokenhearted despair. Thankfully, they're far enough away from the center of the assortment of tables that none of the guests notice them. Most of them are either too busy talking amongst themselves or watching as Sansa and Willas take turns eating a large piece of cake from one plate.

"It's Sansa's wedding," she hisses, trying to wrestle the phone from his grip. "You're not going to make a scene because you miss Ygritte."

"I'm not going to make a _scene_ ," he argues. "I just want to call her and ask her to come so that we can—"

"You've been broken up for a year," Arya reminds him firmly. It hurts to see Jon so upset, and she's not so happy about their breakup either because she really liked Ygritte, but the least she can do is save Jon from embarrassing himself at a wedding that turned out smaller than anyone else had anticipated.

Looking around, she wonders where Gendry went off to. She had only noticed he was gone because she'd seen Jon sitting by himself with a glass of whiskey. The rest of her night, admittedly, had been spent trying _not_ to look at Gendry.

"But we were supposed to come to this wedding together," Jon says.

"You had already been broken up by the time Sansa told us she was getting married. You'd been broken up for _months_."

"We were gonna get back together," he admits softly.

Arya pauses, looking at him in confusion. He didn't sound drunk, just incredibly sad and broody (which wasn't that far from how Jon usually sounded) so he must be telling the truth. "When?" she asked tentatively.

Jon shrugged, swirling the remaining whiskey in his glass before downing the rest of it. "I called her the day Sansa told us last month. We met up for coffee. I told her I missed her. We...spent the night together. And we were kind of back together for the rest of the week before we got into another fight and broke up."

Arya can't help the fact that her head is spinning. Jon's relationship with Ygritte was a tug of war battle that had spanned six years so far. It was hard to imagine one of them without the other, but that didn't stop them from constantly splitting up only to eventually get back together while everyone around them was left to watch helplessly on the sidelines.

"What caused the break up this time?"

Jon didn't miss the pointed way Arya said _this time_. He gave her a dirty look before clearing his throat and sitting back against his chair. "She said she didn't want to feel so pressured about our relationship because going to a wedding was a pretty big deal."

"You've gone to a wedding together in the past," she pointed out.

"Yeah, and we broke up later that night," Jon snorted. "She said it wasn't a coincidence that I called her for the first time in seven months the day Sansa announced her engagement. We broke up the day I told her about the wedding and asked her to come with me. We didn't even last two weeks."

"And I'm supposed to be here to help keep your mind off of all that." A new voice makes itself known behind Arya and she turns around to see Gendry standing behind her, looking down at Jon with pity.

Jon shrugged again and raised his empty glass to Gendry in a mock toast as his friend took a seat. "But then you went to go to the bathroom and my darling sister was right here just begging to know the sordid details of my sad excuse for a love life."

Arya exchanges a look with Gendry as she takes her glass of champagne and hides her smile behind it. Jon was only too eager to start sharing details about his relationship with Ygritte with anyone who would listen and they all knew it.

"Go get some water. Freshen up a bit," Gendry advised. "Your sister just got married and you're sitting away from all the guests because Ygritte didn't want to come with you. We all know she'll probably call you in a few weeks asking to meet up and then you'll be back together in no time."

The thought, however worrying it may be to Arya, seems to perk Jon up a bit.

Jon disappears into the crowd and Arya sees him latch on to Robb, who looks vaguely amused as Jon gestures to Jeyne's growing stomach. She picks up her glass and continues to sip her drink in silence, wondering if Gendry is going to say anything or if he's just going to get up and walk away with little more than a simple goodbye. Just like the last time they saw each other, at a completely different wedding.

In the end, he aims a look at her glass and then meets her eyes. "I know we haven't seen each other in a few years, but I'm pretty sure you're not twenty-one, and unless they've changed the law, doesn't that mean you're participating in underage drinking?" He has a glass in his own hand, taking occasional sips from it as well as he waits for her to find an answer.

"It's a wedding," she says simply, leaning back in her chair and crossing one leg over the other. "I think it's an excuse to break a law or two, don't you?"

Gendry snorts. "What other laws were you planning on breaking tonight?"

She pretends to think about it for a second. "I thought I might take a chance on arson tonight. Wanna join?"

He shakes his head at her and looks down at the tablecloth. "I heard you're going to be in London soon. Is there any truth to that or has Jon been misinformed?"

She nodded, trying desperately not to wonder how her name had come up in a conversation between Jon and Gendry. "I'm leaving at the beginning of June. I decided to stay at my aunt Lysa's until college starts up again." A throwaway comment from Robb suddenly came to mind and she straightens slightly in her seat. "Aren't you working in London?"

"Yep. But this is my last year. I'm transferring back home in December."

They settle back into a semi-comfortable silence that has Arya questioning whether or not she should just _say something_ , but Gendry beats her to it.

"You know, the drinking age in London is eighteen."

Arya glances up at him with her eyebrows raised hopefully. "Is it?" she asked.

"Yeah. It would be a shame for you to be in London for like, almost three months without getting to know the city properly, wouldn't it?"

She smirks. "Are you offering to be my personal tour guide?"

"Not to boast, but I know my way around London pretty well for someone who's worked there for two years. Besides, I'm sure I'd be a lot more fun to spend time with at a bar than your aunt Lysa."

Arya laughs and finishes her champagne. "I can't argue with you on that one."

"So is that a deal?"

She bites her lip for a heartbeat. "Well," she begins, "it's not like I know many people there."

"I'm pretty sure you know no one there."

"And," Arya continues on like he said nothing, "it would be a shame to deprive you of the opportunity to show off how well you know London."

"That's the spirit."

"I'm nothing if not an optimist."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"I can be positive when I want to."

"I think you can be positive when it's appropriate. I would call you a realist."

"I would call you annoying."

He stops short and lets out a shocked laugh. For a second, Arya freezes, hoping she hadn't ruined what had sounded like... _banter_. But then he smiles.

"You're a lot wittier than I remember," he observes.

"You've spoken to me more in these past ten minutes than you have since I was twelve," she points out.

Gendry hums in acknowledgment. "Yeah, that's probably true. It seems I missed out on...how old are you now? Twenty? So that's a good eight years I've missed out on your sense of humor. Well." He picks up his mostly full champagne glass and tips half of it into her empty glass before raising it up in a toast. "I guess we could say...here's a toast to London."

Arya isn't able to hide the grin that makes its way onto her face as she lifts her glass up as well, clinking it against his and taking a sip. "To London."

"To all the bars I'm afraid you _might_ get us kicked out of."

"To teaching you how to actually have a good time," she quips.

Gendry pauses. "Well, learning to have a good time would certainly be an advantage for me, wouldn't it?"

Arya smiles more softly this time, propping her chin up on her hand. "You forgot how to do that or something? I can recall many times I woke up in the middle of the night because you and my dear brothers were stumbling in drunk at three in the morning from some high school party."

"Those weren't fun," he said, rolling his eyes as if the memory still irked him. "They were cramped and annoying. Never had space to breathe over there."

"I heard that you once got caught by Robb in a bathroom sitting on the floor while Margaery Tyrell made out with some stranger in the bath."

She says it without thinking first but the noise Gendry makes when the words come out of her mouth make it worth it. He has a look of panic on his face and his eyes immediately snap up to hers.

"Why do you know that story?" he asked in horror.

"I don't know the actual details," Arya admitted. "Wanna share? It sounds like a wild ride."

"I'll tell you another time," Gendry said sarcastically. " _Why_ would Robb ever tell you that?" he asked, looking at the person in question from across the garden.

Arya laughs and shakes her head. "He didn't. Jon told me one night when we were playing truth or dare. I told him to tell me one of the most embarrassing stories that ever happened to one of you guys at a party."

"Oh, of course he'd choose to tell you something about me, but conveniently forget to tell you about the time Robb took a picture of him passed out on your parents' bed covered in his own puke when we were seventeen the week they went to the Bahamas and left you guys alone in the house."

Arya gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Jon did _what_?" She looked over her shoulder and saw Jon throwing sunflower seeds into Robb's mouth while Jeyne rolled her eyes fondly and continued her conversation with Catelyn. "Did they send the rest of us to our friends for the night so you guys could throw a party?"

"Well, yeah. We knew Sansa would probably tell Cat if she knew, Bran and Rickon were _way_ too young to be around any of that stuff, and knowing you, well...you would have probably gotten into a fight with Robb trying to convince him to let you in on the fun."

Arya felt her cheeks heat up as they turned pink with embarrassment and looked down. "You know, Sansa probably knew what you guys were doing. She was fifteen at the time, anyway. In fact, she probably went to some other party with Margaery that night."

"We were seventeen and trying to get as drunk or high as possible, sometimes even both. We were just glad you guys were out of the house for the night."

Arya tilted her head to the side. "And look at you now. Asking me to come to hang out with you at a bar when I get to London."

"Oh, how the times have changed," Gendry said with a smile.

"One could even call it cosmic irony."

"Maybe it's fate," Gendry said with an air of dramatic purpose

Arya wrinkles her nose. "I never believed in fate."

He shakes his head in disappointment. "Oh, come on. Believing in fate is half the fun of life."

Arya shrugged her shoulders. "It's not for me. As you said," she reminds him, picking at the hem of her dress, "I'm a realist."

"I've changed my mind," Gendry said, leaning forward so the distance between them closes just slightly. "I've decided you're more boring than a realist."

"Just wait until you see me at a bar, then."

He laughs again, leaving Arya to marvel at the number of times she'd caused that sound in just one conversation. She'd made him laugh more tonight than she had in all the years she'd known him.

"I guess I'll be able to find out for myself pretty soon, huh?"

"It's going to be real torture flying back to London by yourself knowing you still have to wait a few more months until you get to take me out."

The way she phrases the sentence is slightly awkward, but if Gendry picks up on it, he thankfully decides to brush it off. Instead, he picks up his glass again and motions for her to do the same.

"To London?" he repeats, tipping his glass towards her.

Arya smiles. "To London."

**3\. Sam and Gilly—January 6, 2016**

It's normal between the two of them, and then all of a sudden it isn't.

Arya could feel Bran's eyes on her, silently disapproving of the way she had rushed into her seat ten minutes after everyone had finally finished filing into the rows of chairs and were quietly talking amongst themselves until the bride and groom appeared. But it wasn't her fault that her cab had gotten caught in terrible traffic on the way to the hall.

It _was_ her fault that she called the cab twenty minutes later than she should have, though. But she would never admit to doing that.

How selfish of a person did it make her that she had risked being late to Sam and Gilly's wedding just to avoid running into Gendry before everyone found their seats?

"Where were you?" Bran asked in a hushed whisper, his voice as cool and collected as ever but Arya could detect the note of suspicion he let slip through. His hand found Arya's elbow and tugged on it to get his sister to look his way. "Mom was worried when you didn't answer your phone for the third time. None of us knew where you were."

Arya shrugged, removing her elbow from Bran's grasp in the process and refusing to look him in the eye. "I lost track of time. Got caught up getting ready. Sorry," she apologized halfheartedly, her eyes pointedly facing forwards.

Bran's eyes narrowed. "Is something wrong?" he questioned, a touch of concern in his voice now instead of the suspicion that had been there only a moment ago.

Arya shook her head. "Nope. Just ready to see Sam and Gilly finally tie the knot. I would have been really upset if I had missed it."

Not sorry enough that she would have made the effort to get there on time, apparently.

Bran turned back to face the front when it became apparent that Arya wasn't going to answer any more of his questions, and she certainly wasn't going to answer any of them honestly, but he kept an eye on her.

Arya knew Bran was half-watching her throughout the entire ceremony, but she can still feel another pair of eyes on her. She didn't let herself turn around to where she _knows_ he's sitting, because she saw him when she'd first run through the doors to her seat and silently thanked anyone who could hear her that their eyes hadn't met that time. Instead, she watched Sam and Gilly exchange their vows and place rings on each other's fingers without really seeing what's happening. She barely heard a word that had been spoken. Silently, Arya wonders if it would upset anyone if she skipped the reception.

But before she knew it, Bran was tapping her shoulder and telling her she looked a bit pale, and then she's walking towards the buffet table in the ballroom where the reception is being held and then Sansa is beside her, handing her a glass of water and kissing her cheek in greeting, and then Arya is sitting at a table alone and Gendry is coming to sit in the chair across from her and she wishes she had never shown up.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn't it?" he asked, putting his own champagne flute on the table.

Arya lifts her eyes towards him and says a quiet " _Yes_ ", unable to be bothered by the fact that she hadn't really taken anything in.

They lapse into silence but it's not the kind of silence they had shared during the couple of times they'd seen each other these past few years. This time, the silence is tense and awkward, but Arya has a feeling it only seems that way because that's how _she's_ making it.

She turned towards him to find his eyes already on her and Arya fights the urge to avert her eyes and point them at the tablecloth. "When did you get back?" she asked, a sorry excuse at making casual conversation.

"Last week. I'm back for good now. Settled into a new apartment and everything."

"Oh. Nice." Arya nodded once and tapped a fingernail against the table. "I've also got a new apartment. Just signed the lease the other day. It's a lot closer to campus."

Gendry gives her a nod in acknowledgment and the silence between them stretches out even thinner than before.

"Do you want to talk about London?" he asked. If there was ever an expression made up of equal parts trepidation and hope, it would be something close to the way Gendry is looking at her right now.

But the last thing Arya wanted to do was talk about London. Especially not _here_. Why would she even want to? She'd received exactly one phone call and four text messages from Gendry after they'd... _seen each other_ , and she'd successfully ignored them all. Seeing him in person was harder than typing a few words on her phone.

"Is talking about London mandatory?" Arya asked, not meeting his eyes as she took a sip of her water. Even in her own head, it was difficult to come to terms with what they'd done. Only four months ago, she'd seen Gendry. Naked. And he'd seen her...naked. When he invited her to go out to his favorite bar, it was _not_ supposed to end with her spending the night in his bed.

"We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Gendry mumbles.

"I think I might prefer not talking about it," she says, but her voice comes out much softer than she planned.

Gendry cocks his head to the side, studying her carefully. "I do want...to talk about it, though."

Arya closes her eyes and sighs deeply. "Or we could _not_."

Gendry turns in his chair so his whole body is facing her and Arya mimics his position on instinct. He's looking at her intensely, like he's trying to read her mind because he's realizing it's probably the only way he'll get any insight as to how she feels or what she's thinking.

"We slept together," he states, blunt and honest.

Arya tries not to flinch at the words and automatically looks around to see if anyone overheard. But no one did because there's a _literal wedding_ happening around them and Gendry decided now was the time to discuss this.

Granted, she _had_ gone through all the motions necessary to avoid him. Not that it was hard when they never saw each other, but she'd ignored him all the same.

"We did," Arya agreed, nodding once, still wondering where he was going with this.

"I don't want you to think that we...that I had sex with you because it was a _plan_ or something. I really did just want to hang out for the night, get a beer, catch up a bit—"

"Because we were so in tune with each other's lives before I got to London?" Arya shot back, eyebrows raised as the involuntary comment slipped out.

It sounded more confrontational than she'd intended, almost like she was attacking him. But she'd put up her defenses the second she saw him coming towards her—she couldn't help it. This was the exact reason she'd screened all his calls and deleted his texts without even opening them. She didn't want to deal with it.

If he had any reaction towards her jab, he didn't show it. "If you regret it—"

"Look, you don't need to placate me. I'm a big girl, okay? We had sex. It was good. Great, even, since we were both a bit drunk. It was four months ago. I don't regret it, but you clearly have some unresolved issues with it since you—"

"It was good?" he asked, his voice just a bit higher than before.

Arya rolled her eyes. "God, you're such a _guy_ ," she said in exasperation.

"I don't have any unresolved issues with it. I just...well, it was nice for me, too, but I don't want you to think I had taken advantage of you or anything. I thought...well, I thought that was why you hadn't answered any of my texts."

Arya leaned back in her chair and bit her lip. "I ignored them because I _knew_ you were going to treat me like some little girl. Plenty of people have sex. They do it all the time. I doubt I was your first and you definitely weren't mine, so we can drop it, can't we?"

Gendry considers her small speech for a second before giving her a stiff nod. "It's not like it came out of nowhere," he says slowly, obviously trying to reason it out just like Arya had. "We _had_ been texting for a few months before. It's not like you were just some girl I picked up at a bar at random. We only acted on what alcohol gave us the nerve to do, right?"

Arya gave him a smile of approval. "We were clearly sending each other some kind of sign that we both wanted it. Nothing wrong with that."

"We were obviously attracted to each other before you even got to London, right?"

Arya's breath caught slightly and she prayed he hadn't noticed. Their back and forth, their little game that they decided to play to make sense out of a night that neither could explain, was fine as long as it was narrowed down to what happened that night only. But saying they'd been attracted to each other before...Arya only hoped he wasn't saying that just to add another reason to their list.

"After all, you said we were sending each other signals, right?" he repeated. "All we did was act on it."

Arya exhaled. "Right. Now that that's out of the way," she said, casting a glance around the ballroom, "is there any chance we can move past it without you blowing anything else out of proportion?"

Gendry allowed a slight laugh before shaking his head in resignation. "Why not?" Looking over his shoulder, he scanned the couples on the dance floor. "Have you noticed who got back together?"

Arya doesn't need to follow his line of sight to know who he's talking about. Jon had been positively giddy since he and Ygritte had made up only a few weeks after Sansa's wedding and now that they had been back together for a few months already, it was hard not to see the vast improvement in both of their attitudes. "Oh, yeah. They do look extremely happy, don't they? Good for them."

"And what about Jeyne? Isn't she supposed to be giving birth soon?"

"Yep. Next week, I think? That's why Robb's not here tonight. He's waiting on her hand and foot."

"What a gracious husband."

"It is his fault that she's knocked up. She has to go through nine months of constant discomfort, doesn't she?"

Gendry's only answer is a vague motion of his head. They settle back into silence but this time, Gendry seems slightly distracted as he looks out at the couples. Arya can see her parents somewhere near the edge of the dance floor with their arms wrapped loosely around each other, their movements effortless with years of familiarization.

"Do you want to join them?" Gendry asks her suddenly.

Arya blinks up at him, confused for a second. She wonders for a brief moment if he had said something else that she hadn't heard but then he looks meaningfully out at the dance floor and Arya laughs.

"Oh, I don't think so," she said, brushing him off without a second thought.

"Come on, don't be a buzzkill. I've never seen you dance."

"And you don't want to. Trust me. Sansa is a much better dancer. You'd be a lot better off dancing with her. And your feet would be safer, too."

"I don't want to dance with her. I want you."

Arya paused at the last part, not daring to look at him, but she can feel her hand tighten around her glass involuntarily.

There's a part of Arya that wants to tell Gendry no, that she hates dancing and that it would be an insult to Gilly to embarrass her and Sam on their wedding day by making a fool of herself on the dance floor. But Gendry is looking at her so eagerly, so hopefully, with his hand extended towards her...and she laughs, the lightest sound she could remember making in a long while.

"I'm a terrible dancer, Gendry," she warns him one last time, even as she takes his hand.

"So am I," he answers with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "I'm sure your heels won't make you any better, so at least I won't be the worst dancer here."

( O O O )

It's only after two dances together that Gendry agrees to give Arya's feet a break, finally listening to her complaints that had started the second he spun her for the first time. He lets her go and says he's going to the bathroom. Honestly, Arya admits to herself as she travels back to the buffet table and grabs a glass of red wine, her discomfort had been less physical and more internal. Something about being so close to Gendry and knowing it was nothing to him...it made her skin itch uncomfortably under the light fabric of her dress. She spins on her heel, expecting to escape to the bathroom for twenty minutes before she takes a cab back home, and finds Gendry so close that her dress brushes against him.

"Hi," he says, a little breathlessly.

Arya looks up at him without blinking. "Hi," she repeats tentatively.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks with the air of reckless impulsivity.

Her lips part and she has to break eye contact with him. Looking down, she sees he has a full bottle of champagne in his hands and the expression on his face is...well, it's like he's decided to throw caution to the wind.

All Arya can manage is a nod before he takes her wrist in his free hand and then they're walking out of the ballroom without even bothering to look behind them. If someone sees them go, they don't have the chance to check. They don't _want_ to check. It would be like acknowledging the existence of anyone or anything outside of them, outside of what they want in this moment.

The air is bitingly cold when they make it outside. Thankfully, it isn't snowing, but Arya definitely regrets not bringing a jacket instead of relying on the long sleeves of her dress to keep her warm. But her hand is in Gendry's and she's pretty sure they're going to...well, they're definitely going to do something. She doesn't focus on the fact that she basically saw no one at the wedding except for Gendry, and the fact that she only briefly managed to congratulate Sam and Gilly. She doesn't dwell on the fact that Bran is definitely going to notice she's missing and that there's a slight chance that someone saw her and Gendry leave together. All she wants to do is keep her hand in his and see what happens for the rest of the night.

An Uber pulls up to the curb just five minutes later, and it's only when they slide into the backseat that Arya realizes neither of them knows where they're going. She looks to him and her mouth is half open when he beats her to it.

"I don't have a bed," he blurts out. Arya doubts it's her imagination when she hears the driver snort and quickly tries to disguise it as a cough.

"I do have a bed," she replies. There's a few heartbeats of tense anticipation made up of unbroken eye contact and shallow breaths before Arya turns to the driver and gives him her new address. Gendry already has the bottle of champagne open when she settles back against the leather seat.

"How'd you manage to swipe this?" she asked, allowing him to tip the bottle towards her and taking a generous amount into her mouth.

"I asked," Gendry said simply, laughing.

"I'm pretty sure this stuff is expensive," Arya scoffs, wiping the corner of her mouth. "What makes you so special that you get a whole bottle to yourself?"

"I told the bartender that I plan on sharing it with a beautiful girl," Gendry quips without missing a beat. He answers fast enough that for a second, Arya wonders if that's actually what happened.

She shakes off the feeling and points her eyes at the back of the driver's headrest. "Charming. But I don't think you need to rely on flattery anymore. I'm already inviting you back to my apartment."

"Figured I'd make up for last time. I wasn't at the top of my game then."

"The fact that you even just implied that you have game at all makes me doubt the rest of tonight," she jokes. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you let me win at poker last time, right? Was that not to get me to sleep with you?"

She would not normally be this brazen when there's a driver who's obviously listening to their every word in the front seat.

But she isn't normally on her way back to her apartment knowing full well she'll have slept with Gendry for a second time before she went to bed tonight—third, if she counted the time they woke up in the early hours of the morning back in London.

"No, I let you beat me because I could feel your competitive streak coming out and didn't want to be in the line of fire when you broke."

"Apparently, my breakdown consists of having sex with men who let me win at poker even though all my hands were shitty."

"Lucky for me. What's the excuse this time?"

The question stops Arya short, realizing how she just backed herself into a corner. But what else does she have to lose now, knowing where she's going to end up? So she looks him in the eye instead.

"No excuses," she replies honestly. "This is all me."

Gendry's eyes dart down to her lips before coming back up. "Lucky for me," he repeats, his hand finding hers again in the empty seat between them.

( O O O )

Her apartment is small, and it's barely furnished, but there's a bed in her room and there's running water and she has cold drinks in her fridge, so Arya figures it'll do.

Arya highly doubts that Gendry has any interest in how much furniture she has, or that it's mostly from Ikea, or that she can offer him some apple juice that isn't lukewarm. She can feel his presence behind her as she tries to unlock her front door with hands that are slightly shaking. When she gets the door open, she feels Gendry put a hand on the small of her back and she lets out a sigh, turning around towards him and looking up at his face.

The look on Gendry's face is something like longing.

Arya wants to get to know that look better.

They aren't even through the door before they're kissing. They both get so distracted that they forgot she'd already turned the knob, so when Gendry puts a hand in Arya's hair and moves to press her against the door, they stumble backwards and Arya grips at his bicep to keep from falling on the floor. Her breath catches and her heart feels like it's in her throat. Their lips part and they stare at each other for a few more seconds, chests pressed together, her back arched just slightly into him, his fingers tangled in her loose hair while her hand doesn't loosen up on his arm.

"Do you..." Gendry trailed off, his hand flexing around the neck of the champagne bottle he still held in his hand. They'd finished half of it in the cab already, but Arya wouldn't be blaming tonight on the alcohol. Everything she was about to do would be the result of a decision she'd made long ago. But there was still some doubt in Gendry's eyes as he looked at her. Maybe it was because he didn't want her to get attached, or because she belonged to the family of his two best friends. Back in London, when it was just the two of them, drunk and far away from their homes, it wasn't hard to forget who they were. Now, it wasn't that simple. "Are you sure?"

Arya brings her hand up from his arm to his cheek and nods, taking in a deep, albeit shaky, breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

It's all it takes to get him to kiss her, and Arya would love to know what else she could do that would convince Gendry Waters to kiss her forever.

Because really, it isn't fair that he's that good at it. It's almost rude, at this point.

But anything other than allowing her nerves to shriek in excitement fly away from her mind as Gendry reaches out blindly to set the champagne bottle on the small table she's set up by her entryway and uses his newly freed hand to grasp her hip and bring her closer to him.

"Do you want to go to the bedroom?" Arya asks, pupils dilated and noticeably out of breath.

Gendry nods eagerly and she takes his hand to lead the way.

She opens the door to her room and turns back towards him. "So, this is my bedroom—"

He cuts her off by kissing her again, cupping her face in both his hands. She feels so incredibly small when he holds her like that, practically engulfed by his much larger frame. "I'm sure I'll be well acquainted with it very soon." The way he says it makes Arya shiver with anticipation.

She can't think straight when he says things like that and looks at her like he wants to eat her _alive_ , and Arya is pretty sure she's going to faint from lack of breathing. She shakes her head to clear it just a bit and blinks a few times. "Help me with my dress?" she requests, her voice soft. He doesn't deny her, pulling her towards him again. Gendry's lips go down to her neck and he ghosts across the curve of her throat up to her jaw while his hand works to drag the zipper of her dress down as carefully as he can. They both might be in a rush, but he didn't want to rip her dress.

By the time it's pooled around her ankles and she kicks it away from her, along with her heels, she realizes again just how much shorter she is than him. "Clothes," Arya stated, gesturing to him. "Off."

It takes him a second before Gendry realizes she's said something. He had been too busy staring at her. "You're..."

Arya rolls her eyes and looks down at her bra. "They're boobs, Gendry. You've seen them before. You've seen _mine_ before. Now get out of your clothes."

This time he listens. Off comes his belt and his dress shirt and pants follows. Arya touches his bare chest and he works at her bra while they walk backwards towards her bed.

"Do you think anyone noticed we left?" Arya asks, letting herself be pushed onto the mattress and pulling him down with her.

Gendry settles on top of her, brushing some of her hair back. "I don't give a fuck."

Arya smirks. "What if Jon noticed?" she teases.

He returns the smirk. "Want to continue, Stark, or would you rather I leave? Not sure if I want my head taken off by Jon for messing around with his cousin."

Arya snorted. "Messing around? What are we, twelve?"

Gendry brings his hand down between her thighs and the shock of it has her gasping. Her reaction makes him smile. "No, we're definitely not twelve."

She decides to return the favor and when she manages to throw his boxers near the dress she'd shoved away and wraps her hand around him, he sounds as caught up in all of it as she is. "Still want to go?" she moaned.

He kisses her once more. "Couldn't leave if I tried."

Arya grins up at him and he offers her one as well, but they're well past teasing at this point. Anticipation has always been half the fun, and their banter and easy back and forth makes for a fun build up, but London seemed so long ago and they're both missing that feeling again.

It happens in gentle kisses pressed to her hipbones before Gendry moves farther down and Arya grabs at his hair. It happens in her moaning his name when he refuses to let up until she's screaming it, in her trying to roll them over as gracefully as she can and using her hand to make his eyes roll back in his head. It's his hips rolling up to meet hers at an angle that has her head tipping back, and taking too long as she tries to get a condom out from a drawer in her nightstand while he kisses her neck.

He seems to like it there. She doesn't mind too terribly, either.

It's her, wrapping her legs around his waist and her hand gripping the bed sheets when they finally join together. It's him, keeping his eyes on her to make sure she feels just as good as he does, even when he loses his rhythm and tries to get it back.

It happens in the way she uses moans and sighs to encourage him to go faster, and the way he bites at her breast. Their hands tangle in each other's hair and each time a gasp comes out or a groan is sounded, they tug.

There had been a moment that night in London four months ago that neither of them had acknowledged. In between Arya's nails pressing little marks on his arms shaped like half-moons and Gendry's teeth finding her shoulder, there had been a brief moment where everything seemed to still around them except the way he continued to move against her and she responded in kind, always giving as good as she got. Their eyes locked and it had been so impossible _not_ to kiss her that Gendry had no other choice.

It's almost the same this time, too, except they're more familiar now. Months separated that first time, the _only_ time, and still, it was like muscle memory.

Arya peaks first, her back arching towards him, and it's the sight of her eyes fluttering closed with her mouth half-formed around the shape of Gendry's name that brings him down with her.

Short breaths slowly give way to a more even heart rate as they settle past the frenzy that had driven them only moments before, and when Gendry lays down next to Arya and their eyes meet, they both know the lie they'd told each other— _and themselves_ —in London would not hold up anymore.

It would not be the last time, and they would not forget it.

**4\. Loras and Renly—October 11, 2016**

"When did this happen?" Arya asks, curling one small hand around Gendry's arm as she props her head up to squint at him.

He furrows his brow and stares down at her in confusion. "I'm pretty sure you were there when I made you come—"

"Shut up, stupid," she scoffs in exasperation, rolling her eyes and sitting up. "I mean, _this_." She makes a flat sort of gesture with her hand, motioning between the two of them. "When did you decide on this?"

Gendry shrugs. "Maybe after you said you were coming to London."

"All that time in between us seeing each other, and you were just dying to fuck me—"

" _No_ ," he says firmly, but he's smiling at her. "I realized I was attracted to you after Sansa's wedding. Sleeping with you then was...well, it wasn't planned, but I'm not complaining."

"Did it ever bother you that I'm Jon and Robb's sister?"

"Technically, you're not Jon's sister," he corrected, but Arya knew him well enough by now.

"Stop avoiding the question."

Gendry meets her eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

"Maybe because this is the first time we'll all be in the same room since Sam and Gilly's wedding."

He looks over at the suit waiting to be put on, reluctant to get dressed. He loves his uncle, and he's very happy for Renly to finally be tying the knot with Loras, but both Gendry and Arya would very much prefer staying in bed all day. Especially if it meant avoiding Robb and Jon.

"It did, in the beginning," he admits. "But you weren't...I barely remember you when you were younger. You spent so much time going off on your own, and I really only got to know you that well after. When I got to know you, it was when we were texting, and that's when I realized how funny you were. That, and being as pretty as you are, I'm not surprised we ended up having sex the next time we saw each other. Whatever did bother me, it was because I was more worried that they'd hit me for sleeping with you."

"They definitely would," she mused, her tone too casual for the subject at hand, trying not to think too hard about Gendry calling her pretty. Clearly he thought she was attractive; they wouldn't be where they are if he didn't.

Gendry laughs humorlessly and rolls his eyes, grabbing her waist and rolling her underneath him. "And here you are, putting me at risk of getting my face permanently messed up. You'll ruin any chance I have of ever seeing another girl again."

The casual, offhand way he mentions it kind of makes Arya's heart clench painfully, but she tries to focus on the way Gendry moves his hand down between her legs. It's not that hard. He's rather talented.

"You're always welcome to walk away," she reminds him, any conviction that would have been in her voice utterly lost by the gasp she lets slip.

Gendry shakes his head. "Not happening when I've got you here like this underneath me."

She lets him keep her there. There have been many times between the last wedding and this one, enough times to try whatever works best for them because despite them trying their hardest not to talk about the logistics of it all, they're not stopping any time soon. And in all those times, Arya discovers that one of her favorite places to be is right here, laying underneath Gendry while he uses his hands and mouth against her in ways that leave her shaking.

He kisses her hard then, and they try their hardest to forget the conversation that had come before.

( O O O )

The resort that Renly had booked is large and crowded and, if it had been up to Arya, she would still be up in Gendry's room, wrapped in his arms while she tried to repay him for getting her off so many times in the two days they'd been in each other's company.

Their time together usually passed in short visits broken up between a month or two, spared whenever she was coming home for the weekend and they were closer or when he surprised her at her doorstep. It was so sporadic that Arya almost forgot it was happening until suddenly, they were falling into bed together again.

But this...

This.

She'd taken the flight out to Hawaii two days before she should have been there, and both her and Gendry know there's only one reason she did it. There's literally no excuse she could think of. And though Arya decides she doesn't like destination weddings and this would probably the last visit she takes to Hawaii, she does enjoy the way Gendry splashes water on her at the pool and the way he always offers her some of his drink when he sees her.

Renly and Loras are kind enough not to say anything, but they aren't subtle enough to hide the way they egg them on. When Loras had walked into Gendry's room looking for him and instead came into contact with Arya, fresh off the plane and halfway undressed, ready to join his fiance's nephew in the shower, he'd burst out laughing. And that was it. Being found out by two people who probably couldn't care less had taken a weight off both their shoulders, leaving Arya to explore the resort as she wished and not bothering to come up with half-assed excuses of why she'd arrived early and spent so much time with Gendry. The absence of any Stark family members gave Arya and Gendry freedom to behave how they wanted and knowing that it'll end after today, that they'll soon be back to trading quick texts through long work days and blocking out a couple hours to see each other every so often, well...it makes Arya hold on just a bit tighter when he kisses her.

In between weddings, she supposes they're little more than strangers passing in the night. But the few hours they manage to steal together are enough to convince Arya they could be something more.

Now, though, after Renly and Loras have exchanged their vows and Jon is seated beside her with Gendry on her other side, she might as well be back in middle school, trying to join in on the conversation, desperate to be included.

"It was a nice ceremony," Jon says. "A bit too exaggerated for me, though."

"Good thing it wasn't your wedding to decide," Gendry replies.

The throwaway comment is enough to make Ygritte tense up beside Jon, a motion that Arya doesn't miss even though she wishes she hadn't seen it. She knows it's not Gendry's fault and that there had probably been something already bugging Ygritte to set her off so soon, but she still wants to scold him. They'd been together for _over a year_ now. A conversation regarding marriage must have come up at some point, she thought, or at least some time in the seven years they'd been going back and forth like this. Or maybe they had and it hadn't gone all that well.

Her distress must have been showing on her face because soon, she felt Gendry's hand settle on her thigh underneath the table. The tablecloth is thick, and it's long enough that no one notices, but _she_ notices. Arya knows that he probably means it as a sign of comfort, at least, _mostly_ , but she still sees the corner of his lips struggling to stay in place when all he wants to do is smirk at her.

She wants to kiss him, but she'll settle for the way his hand slowly starts to move upwards.

"I don't think those decisions will be happening any time soon," Jon mumbles, and if it's possible, Ygritte stiffens even more than she already had.

"Jon—" Arya begins.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" Ygritte asks heatedly, her eyebrows raised.

His hand dips underneath the hem of her knee-length dress and she unconsciously tilts her hips towards his fingers.

"Just repeating what you'd said last week," Jon shot back. "Nothing to decide if there's nothing to plan."

"You _always_ do this, you just—"

"What?"

They were getting louder with each word but Arya couldn't focus on their latest argument when Gendry's fingers had managed to sneak past her panties and were met with bare skin. She tried to be as subtle as she could when she slowly parted her legs, putting a hand to her mouth and turning her face to the side, refusing to look at anyone.

The gasp she lets out is perfectly timed with a loud, empty laugh that Ygritte emits.

"Don't act like you're not pissed because I said I don't know if I want to get married."

"Don't act like you're not deflecting because we've had a pretty damn good time recently and now you're just as scared as you were in the beginning."

Arya grasps Gendry's wrist under the table, stilling his movements and meeting his eyes with a warning look on her face. She gives a single shake of her head and he draws back immediately, letting her go without argument when she stands up and moves to stand near the buffet table.

She almost wishes he'd followed her.

( O O O )

"I think they've broken up," Gendry sighs as he joins her outside in the hall an hour later, the loud music still pounding through the closed doors.

"What else is new," she replied sullenly.

"What's wrong?"

"I just...thought they'd be alright this time. They were so _happy_."

"He shouldn't have brought her to the wedding."

"She shouldn't have agreed."

"How long did they last this time? What was it, right after Sansa's wedding, right?"

Arya nodded. "April. I remember because I thought Jon was playing an April Fool's joke when he told me they'd gotten back together."

Gendry shook his head in wonder. "A year and a half and they still can't get their shit together?"

Silently, Arya thinks she can't be one to pass judgement since she can't remember the last time she had _her_ shit together.

"You doing okay? I'm sorry if I pushed things a bit at the table—"

"No, it's fine. I just thought it was a bit...much. With them arguing and all."

"They're always arguing."

"We were in public," Arya reminds him.

He moves closer to her, invading her personal space as he casts a look around them. "We're not in public now," he says softly, bending down to catch her lips.

Arya lets him kiss her for a moment before pulling away. "Just because no one is around doesn't mean we're not in public. It's still..." She loses her train of thought when his hand resumes the position they'd been in before she'd left the table. "It's still a public area."

"So let's go, then."

Arya laughs. "It's your uncle's wedding— _Gendry_." Her nails dig into the jacket of his suit when he crooks his fingers just right and she leans into him without realizing she's doing it.

"I'm sure he'll understand. And it's not like he'll say anything, either. Knowing Renly, he's probably already managed to leave with Loras and they're in a closet somewhere like when _they_ would sneak out during weddings."

She whimpers when he kisses her neck, still feeling weak in the knees when he does it, even after all this time. "Does that mean the only two people who could place us together are indisposed?"

"I believe it does."

"So no one would even think to ask if we're together, or where we've gone?"

She feels the way he shakes his head against the side of her neck, and it's all it takes before she drags him up by the hair and kisses him, long and hard and deep. "Take me away, then. I've grown quite fond of your hotel room."

**5\. Bran and Meera—July 9, 2017**

It's a difficult thing to process, belonging to Gendry Waters and him not knowing it.

Arya ponders on this thought while she curls sections of her hair in the mirror, oblivious to the flurry of activity that's happening right behind her. Some kind of dress emergency that has Sansa throwing a fit while Meera is sitting back with her legs kicked up, watching it all go down as if she doesn't have a care in the world.

As if it isn't _her_ wedding dress that's missing a pearl button.

"I just don't understand how it could have popped off!" Sansa exclaims for possibly the fourth time since they'd realized it. "It was fine when you tried it on yesterday."

Meera can do nothing but shrug, unable to provide the answer that Arya's sister so clearly needed.

"We can always pin it," Jeyne reminded her.

"It's a _wedding gown_ , not some prom dress that got torn because it was cheap fabric. This is _Vera Wang_ , Jeyne."

Jeyne holds her hands up in mock surrender, trying not to let the amusement show on her face. She meets Arya's eyes in the mirror and they exchange a smirk.

"I don't mind just using a safety pin, Sansa," Meera points out, not for the first time.

"For God's sake, Sansa, just pin the fucking dress," Arya laughs. "I still have to do your hair, and no one is going to be sitting there, counting the individual buttons on the back of her dress, or making sure they're all evenly spaced out."

It's another ten minutes before Sansa finally relents, though Arya believes she can see her eyes water a bit as she pushes the pin through the fabric and straightens it out against Meera's back.

" _Thank you_ ," Meera says meaningfully. "Now, can we please get a move on? It looks like I'm the only one who's ready, which seems really backwards for my wedding day."

"Actually," Arya points out, jumping up from her seat as she sets the curling iron down, "I've just finished. Next person, in the hot seat, let's go."

It's Sansa who takes the seat next, and while Arya begins straightening her long hair, her mind wanders back to the thoughts she'd been immersed in before the dress emergency.

It had been almost three months since the last time they'd seen each other, and though they'd parted on good— _friendly, even_ —terms, the absence he'd provided in his place had been lonely enough to make Arya reach for her phone countless times in the middle of the night, wishing she could text him.

But she couldn't, because this time was different.

This time, he was seeing someone.

It had come as nothing short of a shock when he'd shown up at her apartment one day, coffee and bagels in hand, and told her it was best that they stop what they had been doing. When she'd spotted him through the peep hole and opened the door, Arya had immediately jumped up to kiss him, but he held her back, and that burn of rejection still hadn't washed away just yet.

"What's her name?" she'd asked when Gendry had finally let it out that he'd been seeing someone the past two weeks.

"Willow."

"Pretty name."

"It wouldn't have been right to just stop calling or texting you," he'd explained when she hadn't said anything for a bit after that. "Willow and I were both very clear in the beginning that it was all casual. We were both seeing other people but, you know. Then it wasn't just so casual anymore."

It hurt more than it should have. Arya hadn't stopped thinking about the way he'd said it, couldn't stop asking herself if she had been the only other girl Gendry was seeing. Was it just her and Willow, or were there other girls? She couldn't be stupid enough to delude herself into thinking otherwise. They'd go two months without meeting up, and whenever they did, there was always banter, always conversation, always _friendship_ , but there was also always sex.

It couldn't have been just her.

That didn't mean it still wasn't hurting her to think about it.

She'd told him she was happy for him and shown him the door on the way out, snagging the bag of bagels he'd brought with him with a playful quip about how she at least deserved the food when she thought she was going to get something more when she'd seen him at her doorstep. He'd laughed, but neither of them seemed pretty joyful as they'd parted ways.

"Do you smell something burning?" Jeyne asked, tilting her head up as she sniffed at the air.

Arya eased her grip on the straightener, casually fanning herself as a way to wave away the smoke that had begun to cloud around Sansa's hair. "Nope," she answered hastily, praying Sansa hadn't noticed.

What hurt the most, Arya thought, was that she had no one to turn to to help her get over this...heartbreak? The word didn't fit right for something that was supposed to be so casual. They'd both agreed to keep things light between them. The idea of a relationship had never entered Gendry's mind, so what made Willow so special that after only two weeks of seeing _her_ , he decided to stop seeing Arya after so many months?

She felt like a jealous child, but what else could she do?

No one had known about their agreement. Most of her friends were so intricately tied to her family that she wouldn't have breathed a word of it for fear of any of them finding out. But it came to times like these when Arya wished she could just blurt it out and vent all of the pent-up frustration she'd been feeling ever since Sam and Gilly's wedding.

If they'd just left it at London, if they'd just agreed not to talk about it...if he hadn't asked her to dance, if he hadn't taken that champagne bottle and asked if she wanted to leave, if she hadn't agreed and brought him back to her apartment...

If, if, if.

But no, Arya couldn't be that stupid. She knew that even if they had just left it at London, she still would have thought about it afterwards. The way she ignored his texts and calls afterwards had been _because_ she wasn't sure if she would be able to let that night go. In the end, it was all London's fault.

Fucking London.

( O O O )

Willow _is_ incredibly pretty, even Arya can't be petty enough to deny that.

She can very well try, though.

Willow dances with Gendry all night in a way that makes Arya wish she weren't always so reluctant to accept his invitation when he'd ask _her_ to the dance floor. What missed opportunities she'd taken for granted.

"Are you feeling okay?"

Arya looks up to find Jeyne standing over her, a kind smile on her face. "Fine," she responds, turning her eyes back to Gendry.

Jeyne follows her gaze and laughs to herself. "Whatever it is going on between you two, you should fix it soon."

This time, when Arya looks at Jeyne, she doesn't look away. "And what is going on between the two of us?" she challenges.

Jeyne shrugged and took the empty seat next to her. "No clue. But you used to spend every wedding by each other's side, and now I haven't even seen you say hello to him. He was hoping you would, though. I saw the look on his face when you walked in."

Arya bites her lip and wonders if she can somehow steer the conversation towards something that won't leave her feeling embarrassed.

"Do you remember when you were doing my hair on my wedding day?" Jeyne asks her suddenly.

Arya nodded her head. "Yeah."

"And you were so sure I was going to run out on Robb."

"I wasn't thinking that."

"Maybe not consciously, but there was definitely that small part of you that thought I wasn't going to go through with any of it, wasn't there?"

Arya can't answer. She looks at Jeyne, at the life she's built with Robb and their son, and surely there will be more children for Arya to call her nephews and nieces, for her to dote upon when she makes it home for a weekend, and she feels so guilty for doubting Jeyne that day.

"Whatever you're feeling now, however scared you are to tell him what it is you're going through..." Jeyne paused. "I promise it's worth it. Even if he doesn't feel the same way, even if it hurts for months afterwards, it'll still hurt less than if you let yourself wallow in the what ifs."

"What do you know, you and Robb were love at first sight." For the first time, it's anything but snarky, not a hint of ill will hidden in her words. If anything, she smiles as she jokes about it and there's no jealousy when Jeyne doesn't disagree, but she's also so sad that she didn't have something like that for herself.

Except, it's not that she just wants that. She's never been a hopeless romantic. Love and marriage and family—all things that Arya had been surrounded by when she was growing up. She didn't want to be alone, but she didn't spend her time looking for Mr. Right. Not being alone wasn't narrowed down to romance, so she _wasn't_ alone, nor had she ever felt as such. She'd always figured that if it happened, it happened, and if it didn't, well, her life was full enough that she didn't think she'd be missing out on anything.

But then she'd gotten to know Gendry and suddenly Arya discovered that it's not missing out on Mr. Right that hurts. It's missing out on Gendry.

"If he doesn't feel the same way, then it'll be my final answer," she says quietly.

"That means you can always move on," Jeyne reminds her, reaching across the table to touch her hand. "Would you rather live in a fantasy world where you can imagine what might happen if you _had_ told him?"

Arya looks between her sister in law and the boy she hasn't stopped thinking about for...well, years. He was always there, in the back of her mind. From a middle school crush that hadn't faded completely to a friendship she feared might be ruined for good, he'd been in her head. Ever since Sansa and Willas's wedding, when they had their first real conversation possibly ever, and had built up what she was happy to call a solid friendship, he had never truly left.

"I don't know if I'm ready for that answer, yet," she admitted. "Whether it's a yes _or_ no."

Jeyne stands up and smooths out her dress. "Well, I'd hope you don't wait too long. This girl doesn't seem like she stands a chance, but the next one might."

It's Jeyne's parting statement that leaves Arya feeling more hopeless than ever before.

( O O O )

After Bran and Meera cut their cake and promptly shove it in each other's faces, Arya speaks to Gendry for the first time.

Or, he speaks to her.

"Congratulations."

She already knows it's him just by the sound of his voice but she looks up at him and smiles as if it was the first time she'd heard it.

"It's not my wedding, it's Bran's."

"Yeah, but he's your brother. You're always so quick to bat away any kind of well wishes."

"That's not true."

"Oh, so it's only when it comes from me, then, is it?"

Arya glares at him over her champagne but chooses not to answer.

"Do you see yourself getting married?" he asked her suddenly.

Arya paused for a moment to think about it. "I'd like to," she realizes, not taking her eyes off her brother as he dances with his new wife. "The way Bran and Meera look at each other, the way Willas looks at my sister, even when he thinks she isn't noticing it...I would like to have that. When I was younger I thought I didn't care, but now, I think it would be nice."

Gendry is silent beside her. She wonders why he asked if he looked so uncomfortable now.

"How's Willow?"

"Fine. But I think...I think it'll be over soon."

Arya pretends her heart doesn't clench at that, and then she remembers what Jeyne told her.

 _Clench away_ , she thinks. _I want to feel that as long as it means it's real_.

"You shouldn't say that at a wedding. That can't be good luck."

"I'm starting to think bringing a date to weddings means bad luck."

"What makes you say that?"

"I thought we were fine this whole time, and then I asked her to come with me as my date—as my _girlfriend_ —and it's like...the second she said yes, a switch was flipped." He shrugs. "Maybe it's because I remembered I'd be seeing you."

Arya freezes, her lips parting as she looks at him with such terrible hope blooming in her chest, thick and real, that she's certain it's blocking her airway and she can't _breathe_.

"Little old me?" she quips, but she sounds a little breathless, and something is telling her nothing about this is a game anymore.

She's starting to believe it had never been a game to begin with.

"I miss you."

And there it is, plain and honest and clear. No deep declarations or long speeches. Gendry just says what he thinks and hopes she can respond in kind.

She's never been that easy.

"Why?"

He snorts and soon, it gives way to laughter, and then he's practically shaking as he looks at her with so many different types of affection it makes her head spin. Friendship, lust, romance, it all added up to the two of them, and it all came in that one look.

"Why are you _laughing_?" Arya asked, her own laughter catching her words. "This is a serious moment!"

"That. That's why I miss you. You're so focused on what's happening in the moment that you reject anything else because you love to live like that. I miss you because you always give just as good as you get and you aren't afraid to scream and yell if you feel like it, but you can also get so quiet that you almost look _peaceful_ , and I love that look on you."

Arya smiles at him and she wants to reach across the table and take his hand, but he's still here with someone else as his date. It doesn't feel right. "Willow," she reminds him.

Gendry nods at her, understanding right away. "I know. I will take care of it, I swear. Not tonight, because...well, because that's just an awful thing to do to someone. I don't want to hurt her."

"I understand."

"I'm sorry if I...hurt you."

"When would you have hurt me?"

"When I told you about her."

She knows what he wants, then. He wants her to tell him that it did hurt. Not because he wants her to feel any pain, but because he needs that confirmation that he didn't just basically tell her how he feels about her only to get shut down. She tucks a bit of her hair behind her ear and cocks her head to the side.

"I missed you, too, stupid."

It's enough to make his face break out into a smile, and Arya feels right again.

( O O O )

Arya is drying her hands in the bathroom when there's a loud bang and she jumps up, her breath catching when she sees who it is standing in the doorway.

"Ygritte?"

Her red curls are a bit of a mess, like she'd only managed to yank a brush through it in her haste to get to the door. Her eyes are wild, and there's a certain anticipation to the way she bounces around, moving her head from side to side.

"Jon."

And just like that, Arya knows. Though she should have realized it when her gaze first landed on her, there's no other reason _except_ for Jon. For Ygritte, there never really was.

"He's in there." She points over Ygritte's shoulder to the doors that lead to the hall and she's just about to let her go when she grabs her wrist to stop her, Ygritte's body half-turned and ready to run.

" _Ygritte_ ," she hisses. "I swear if you break his heart again—"

"I'm going to marry that man," Ygritte says. "Not now, maybe not for a few years, but I'm going to marry him. And I've been stupid enough to think otherwise for so fucking long."

It's a declaration she needs to see. Ygritte, walking through the double doors and frantically scanning for Jon. Arya realized she forgot to tell her that no, he hadn't come with anyone else. He hasn't seen anyone since Ygritte had walked into his life so long ago. But she recognizes that haphazard energy that says if she waits too long, it'll be too late, and when she finally sees Jon, Ygritte hurries over to him.

Arya hovers by the doors, letting them have their time. It's hushed, quiet, so unlike them that it brings a bit of a smile to her lips. She's shaking her head at him while she speaks and all Jon can do is look at her before he cuts her off mid-sentence, kissing her so deeply that it's only at that moment that Arya decides to look away. It isn't a scene, or a spectacle. It's in the middle of another wedding but it's off to the side and it's private, and if anyone notices Ygritte suddenly sitting by Jon's side, no one says a word.

She looks around the room, searching for the person who had been trailing their relationship with her this whole time. She sees Gendry sitting at one of the tables on the edge of the dance floor, and Willow is speaking to him. He's nodding his head like he understands what she's saying and Arya feels so bad for all of them. Willow, brought to a wedding as someone's date when they weren't the first option. Gendry, not bold enough to say what he felt until he saw Arya and by then, he had already devoted this night to someone who wasn't her. And herself, the girl who spent months—years, really, if she was being honest with herself—denying the way she felt about Gendry all because she was too scared. She fancied herself a brave, willful girl—was that not one of the reasons Gendry liked her, if what he said was to be believed? She was sorry more than anything that she'd let self doubts cloud her vision for so long.

( O O O )

"I think I'm gonna head home," Gendry tells her some hours later, when Bran and Meera are the only ones left on the dance floor and her mother is all cried out, her head resting on Ned's shoulder.

Arya is a bit too distracted looking at them to hear him for a few seconds. They look so happy. She'd be lucky if she looked half that content with a quarter of the struggles in just ten years.

"Leaving already?"

Gendry raised his eyebrows. "Do you know what time it is?"

"No," she admitted.

"It's past two in the morning."

Arya feels a dim jolt of shock that's mostly blocked out by her reluctance for the night to end. Weddings were not her thing, especially the way most people planned then so big yet so impersonal. What happened to intimacy? she wondered. But despite that, seeing her younger brother so happy, while Jon had left long ago with Ygritte on his arm...it made the night better than it actually had been.

She looked up at Gendry and gives him a hard, meaningful look. "Take care of Willow, won't you?"

He knows what she's saying _. Don't be an asshole about it. Don't just rush through it. Don't leave her there by herself after it's over._

But what Arya really wants to say is _don't take too long_.

( O O O )

Sleeping is a lost fantasy at this point. Her clock proudly displays that she's sitting up in bed, at four in the morning, unable to fall asleep despite the amount of wine she'd had.

Arya punches her pillow into a more comfortable shape in frustration and groans, flopping down on her back and forcing her eyes shut. She's almost there when her phone lets out an obnoxiously loud chirp and Arya swears she's going to kill whoever decided to bother her at such an ungodly hour.

And then she sees the text message.

_Jon: I'm getting married. Don't tell anyone. Love you._

She's going to kill him and it won't be for keeping her up.

Arya lays in bed for a while longer, thoughts consumed by Jon and Ygritte and her warring concern and elation for them. _Make it work this time,_ she begs silently. _Don't let them fall apart again._

By the time it reads five in the morning, she hears knocking and she silently hopes it's Jon.

It's much better.

Gendry is still wearing his suit from the wedding but his hair is all messed up like he'd ran his hands through it too many times and his eyes look tired but so, so desperate.

"Gendry?"

"Did you see Jon's text?"

She nods. "Do you think he sent it to anyone else?"

He shakes his head no. "Maybe Sam? No clue."

"What are you doing here?"

Gendry shook his head again. "I missed you."

She stops, her hand tightening around the doorknob. "Where's Willow?"

"I know I said I wasn't going to do it tonight but she beat me to it. Said she knew things have been off for a bit and after she saw me with you tonight, she realized why."

Arya can't think of a response so she stands there, hoping he's going to continue.

"And...and I missed you."

"You said that already. At the wedding and now."

He walked through the door and brought his hands up to cup her face gently. Even now, she still felt so small. "Because it's so fucking true."

Arya brings her hand up to his hair, softly letting her fingers run through the mess for a moment before tugging sharply. He lets out a groan and she smiles. "So stop missing me."

God knows she's tired of missing him.

**6\. Jon and Ygritte—May 4, 2018**

In the end, it's the way Gendry laughs at Jon's blinding grin that does her in.

And Arya _wishes_ , she truly does, that she could focus on anything else. Like the way Ygritte's jumpsuit ("Because, Sansa, and I say this with the utmost respect, _fuck dresses_.") is fit perfectly to her body. Or the way Jon can't stop smiling, like he's caught the sun in his hands. Or the way they're both looking at each other as if they _hadn't_ eloped only a week after they'd gotten back together at Bran's wedding.

But she's standing behind Ygritte and he's standing behind Jon, and they're both in the perfect position to look at each other as much as they please.

And who is she to deny herself the simple pleasures in life, like how Gendry's tux looks magnificent on him?

But as much time as Arya could spend staring at Gendry—and _oh_ , she could stare—one of her favorite people in the world is getting married today. When she hears Jon declare that he'll take Ygritte to be his, now and forever, when she sees the way Ygritte leans into the words when she used to flinch away, when there's not even a tremor in her voice as she responds in kind, Arya can't look anywhere except them.

 _God, I hope it's true_ , she prays. _Let them have their happy ending. They've waited long enough_.

They'd decided against reciting their vows out loud, a decision Arya respected. As funny as it would have been to hear them talk about their everlasting love for each other, she also knows that she's never truly understood their relationship, and it wouldn't be anyone's place to listen and think, "Well, that's surely not how it happened."

And besides, who is she to talk? Jon and Ygritte had been in each other's lives for nine years now and despite what she suspects were _not_ their best efforts, they had never been able to shake the mark the other had left on them.

She kind of understands how that feels now.

So Arya shares a laugh with Gendry on the opposite side of the altar they're standing under and she's the first to reach Jon after he kisses Ygritte. She suspects no one would dare be brave enough to try to beat her to it, but when he hugs her tightly, lifting her just slightly off the ground like he used to when she was a child, and whispers "I'm so happy" against her hair, Arya couldn't care less.

( O O O )

"So it was just you two at their first wedding, right?" Sansa asks.

Arya and Gendry nod at her. "Well, us and Sam," Gendry remembers.

"Do you prefer that one or this one?"

They exchange a look and both of them know what's going on through their heads. Jon had ignored all of Arya and Gendry's calls and texts after he'd told them he was going to get married, and as far as they knew, no one else had heard the news aside from them. It was only three days later when Gendry had posted a picture of them kissing on Facebook that they heard from him.

When Arya had gotten the call from Jon, amidst scrolling through the admittedly hilarious reactions to the picture, she'd immediately answered.

"Where are you?" she'd asked the second she picked up the phone.

"Are you happy?"

The question stopped Arya short, looking over at Gendry, lounging on her bed beside her laughing at the laptop screen. He had been shirtless, a bowl of pretzels and popcorn nestled between them, going back and forth between the Facebook comments and the picture itself. She'd seen the way he smiled every time he looked at it and suddenly, she felt so painfully happy she thought she couldn't breathe.

"Yes," she said softly, her voice cracking.

"Come to Vegas with Sam. He's already reserved the plane seats. We're getting married in two days."

And that had been it. He'd hung up, they'd booked a flight, and shown up in Vegas as soon as they could. The next photo that had been posted, of Jon and Ygritte kissing under an altar with Arya throwing flower petals over them, Sam and Gendry whistling, and an Elvis impersonator that Ygritte had been very adamant about having at her wedding clapping in the background, had damn near caused a Stark family riot.

Gendry took Arya's hand and held it over the table, smiling at her before turning back to Sansa.

"It doesn't even compare."

He doesn't elaborate which wedding he's referring to, but Arya squeezes his hand, and they know.

( O O O )

The wedding is smaller than any other one Arya had ever attended. Her whole family is there, significant others included, as well as Robb's son. She sees Sam dancing with Gilly while Theon and Edd argue back and forth with Sansa and Margarey over the moral ethics of eating wedding cake before the bride and groom have cut a piece for themselves. There's only a handful of other guests dotting the room, a few coworkers and friends from college they'd managed to hold onto.

It feels more like a dinner party rather than a wedding, and the only reason it's big is because of how big the Stark family has grown.

Arya prefers it this way.

She feels a set of arms wrap around her waist from behind, Gendry's chin resting on her shoulder as he presses a kiss to the side of her neck.

"Hi," he whispers against her skin, making her shiver.

"Hi, back."

She half expects him to ask her to dance, but instead they stand just like that until she loses track of time. Arya has gotten much better at accepting his invitations to dance, even if it's at two in the morning in the middle of her living room, but she loves moments like _these_. They watch Ned and Cat slow dance their way through a song from the 80s that surely Jon picked out, and they see Ygritte lose her patience with Theon and shove him towards their wedding cake. Sansa is taking pictures of Robb's son in his little tux and Willas is looking at her like he wants _that_ for them as well, and most importantly, Jon can't keep his eyes off Ygritte.

And she feels like this might be the first time she's ever felt _still_ and wants to stay that way.

( O O O )

"I asked you if you were happy," Jon remarks as they're dancing together later that night.

"You did," Arya acknowledges, looking between him and Gendry before returning her gaze back to Jon.

"Are you still happy?"

Arya wants to hug Jon as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Jon would never admit to it, especially not to Arya herself, but he worries about her more than he should. She had friends and a life that she enjoyed, she was close with her family and it's not like she was _missing_ anything critical in her world. But was she happy, did she want more, did she long for something she thought no one would be able to give her? A relationship was not the key to making Arya Stark happy, Jon knew that well enough. But she was not the type of person who could be happy all on her own, either.

There had to be something, a kind of balance, a middle ground. He didn't want her to settle.

"I'm very happy. More than you realize."

Jon takes his hand from hers and puts it in her hair like he used to, and Arya doesn't know why but today is making her feel so _little_ again. "Do you promise?"

And when she smiles, there's nothing about it that suggests she's _settling_ for anything.

He doesn't need to hear her say " _Yes_ " but it comforts him all the same.

( O O O )

It doesn't take long for them to sneak out.

Arya had been perfectly content sitting with Margaery and Ygritte, two vastly different personalities that had somehow found common ground and yet remained so struck by the other woman that seeing the two of them agree on something was like watching two separate species eye each other in suspicion.

She'd seen Gendry waiting by the double doors, because of _course_ she knew where he was, and he motioned towards the hallway with a quick jerk of his head. Arya shook her head slowly, smirking at the way his face fell.

There was a snort beside her. "Oh just fuck off, will you?" Ygritte said in exasperation.

Arya whips her head around, fully expecting to see her and Margaery coming to blows—over what, she didn't know, but she was definitely surprised to see them sitting there, staring at _her_. It took Arya longer than she'd care to admit to realize Ygritte had directed her words at her.

"What are you talking about?"

This time it's Margaery who intervenes. "God, just go be with your boyfriend. You've been separated the whole night because you stand next to each other for five seconds and just _have_ to have sex, you're both probably all hot and bothered."

"Anyone can tell."

Margaery nods in confirmation and immediately, her and Ygritte exchange that same suspicious look again, like agreeing on something is a clever trap that they know better than to fall into.

"Do you not care?" Arya asks, already looking back at Gendry. He's still by the doors, holding up two glasses and a bottle of champagne. By the looks of it, it's unopened.

She practically vibrates with excitement.

"I literally couldn't care less," Ygritte promises. "I'm not the one who decided to throw a public wedding to make my family feel less jealous for not telling them about Vegas. That was my husband." Two years ago, a comment like that would have sent Jon and Ygritte into a spiral that once again, Arya would believe they couldn't get themselves out of. But there's a fierce sort of tenderness on Ygritte's face as she says _my husband_ that Arya just has to smile at.

She ignores the whistle that Margaery rips from between her fingers as she crosses the floor to Gendry and takes a glass. "This for me?"

He holds up the bottle. "And this."

It reminds her of another wedding that hadn't been very long ago, but they were so different that Arya feels it could have been years ago.

"Stole another bottle, did you?"

He grinned at her and she just _knows_ that he's remembering the same night she is. Pouring champagne into her mouth, his hands on her hips while he tries to keep her against the mattress, their lips meeting as their bodies move together.

"Figured I'd share it with a pretty girl," he says.

They escape the ballroom and after ten minutes of searching, she leads Gendry into the bridal suite, hand in hand.

"Why a hotel?" he asks. "It's not their style at all."

Arya shrugs. "They already _had_ a wedding that was more their style. This was for the family." She puts their glasses on the dressing table, takes the champagne from Gendry's hands and sets it aside, and before she can speak, he's beat her to it.

"I'm gonna marry you, Arya."

She wants to cry.

"Don't freak out, I'm not proposing to you. Even though no one else is around it would be a real dick move to propose at someone else's wedding. I don't even have a ring, I just..." Gendry purses his lips and lets his shoulders fall. "I want to marry you. Someday soon, like in the next five years."

Arya walks up to him and puts her hands around his neck. "Any other plans you've got for us?" she asks.

His arms circle her waist, drawing her closer. "An apartment. Hell, it could be a house, I don't give a shit. Wherever you want, as close to home as you prefer. More than one bedroom."

The last thing holds more meaning and they both know it, but she isn't scared. With Gendry, it was like the suggestion of something possibly happening. Never a specific plan, never unless it was something they both wanted.

"What else?"

"You," he states simply. "You, always you."

Arya hadn't cried during the ceremony and she'd be damned if she started now. "God, you suck," she laughs, looking up at the ceiling.

"What did I do now?" But he's also laughing and she loves that sound so much.

"I can't _do that_! You can go off making romantic speeches and all that shit, but I'm not good at it and you know it."

Gendry lets go of her and looks at her closely. "Well," he says, "you could always make me come. That's romantic."

And then she's gone—her laughter takes up the rest of her breath and he's joining in and Arya _knows_ that she could be happy for the rest of her life if Gendry made her laugh like that every day.

"What happened?" she asks when they reclaim their breath, pouring champagne into his glass and passing it to him before pouring one for herself.

"When?"

"With us. You used to be so good at not looking at me. I used to think if I ever only had to see you at weddings, I'd get over that stupid middle school crush, but then... London. And I just need to know when you started looking."

She'd asked him this question once before, at a different wedding. But they'd both been too reluctant to attach themselves to something that was too sweet to be permanent.

"I used to be an idiot," Gendry answers, shrugging his shoulders. "And you were also way too young when you were in middle school."

"There's still an age difference," Arya points out.

"But I hadn't seen you in a while until we were both in our twenties," he reminds her. "It's not like I was waiting for you to grow up, because I barely knew who you were, but I think it's good I didn't see you those few years between college and all the weddings. It helped me look at you as _Arya Stark_ instead of _Jon's favorite cousin_."

She'd only ever wanted to be looked at as Arya Stark, as her. He remained the only person who had, so far.

"God, I love you." It's nowhere near the first time she's said it, and he repeats the words back to her like a reflex. They'd broken that barrier down a few months ago, but here, at yet another wedding after he's just said he wants to _marry her_ someday, start a family with her... it means more.

Declarations of love lead to kisses and kisses lead to touching and before Arya knows it, she's breathing raggedly as he starts to work on his pants.

"Will anyone be looking for us?" he asks before chucking them off onto a tufted ottoman.

Arya couldn't care less and she tells him as much before she's on her knees and he doesn't think to ask anything else.

Moment by moment, she takes him apart as he's done for her so many times before and nothing ever gives Arya a thrill like knowing she's the one who can bring Gendry down to his knees just by the simple act of going down to hers.

"Arya, get up," he rasps.

She looks up at him. "Oh I'm sorry, is this not satisfying enough for you?" she jokes.

He grips her by the forearms and pulls her up, kissing her hard enough to leave her breathless. "I'm not leaving this room without making _you_ come and I don't know how much time we have left before someone starts looking for us."

As Gendry's pulling her dress up and sliding her panties down, Arya can't help but push just a little more. "Let them look. I'll be loud enough that they can hear us and leave us alone."

He pushes into her and she proves just how loud she's willing to be before he covers her mouth with his, kissing her quiet. "You talk too much."

"You don't move enough."

He's quick to prove her wrong and it doesn't take either of them very long to reach their peak.

He helps put her dress back in place and she gets his pants for him, both of them ready to sneak to the bathroom to freshen themselves up.

He's halfway to the door when Arya grabs his arm and turns him back to face her.

"Hey," she calls, "guess what?"

"What?"

Arya gives him a blinding smile. "I'm gonna marry you someday."

**7\. Arya and Gendry—September 1, 2019**

"I love you."

The words never sounded so beautiful.

"I love you, too."

His hand tightened around her waist for just a second before letting go. "Are you okay?"

Arya smiled up at him. "Are _you_? You seem a bit unsure yourself."

And then Gendry's hands are back on her waist and he's pulling her closer to his chest, kissing her. "Never."

It helps the nerves, just a bit.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Arya doesn't break their embrace as she turns her head to look at Sansa, glaring at them as if they've personally offended her.

"Excuse me, I'm trying to have a private moment with my husband."

If she'd been looking at Gendry at that moment, she would have seen the way he _glowed_.

"He's not your husband yet and you better pray you haven't caused any bad luck by seeing him before the wedding."

Gendry turns them so her back is pressed to his chest and looks at Sansa closely. "Margaery literally caught you in Willas's bed the morning of your wedding. You two seem to be just fine."

Sansa turns red, no doubt wondering how Gendry knew that. "Well, news flash: we aren't. We're getting divorced, the superstition is true. Now _move_ , my sister isn't doing her own hair on her wedding day."

Arya bursts out laughing, Gendry's arms holding her up as she looks at Sansa knowingly, but her sister isn't meeting her eyes. _Fine, then. Don't tell me_.

Instead of pushing, she kisses Gendry on the lips. "I have to go now. I'm being summoned."

He makes a dramatic show of kissing her hand. "Come back to me?" he requests, eyebrows raised hopefully.

Arya hates that he makes her blush and she still hasn't found a way to stop it. Probably because he always takes her by surprise like that. "Shut up, stupid."

Sansa, though, seemed to have had enough of their flirting. "You guys are getting married and you're acting like high schoolers."

Arya lets her take her arm and allows herself to be dragged down the hall. "If you don't flirt with your husband anymore, then maybe you _should_ be getting a divorce," she teases, thankful for the shorter hem of her dress because Sansa's walking too fast for her to keep up without stumbling at least once. "Although I suppose that would be a bad way to start off a pregnancy, don't you?"

 _That_ gets Sansa to stop. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says quickly, crossing her arms over here chest.

Arya looks pointedly at them, placed directly above her stomach.

Sansa drops them.

"Why would you think I'm pregnant? That's an incredibly rude thing to assume."

"It's not an assumption. I found the pregnancy test in the trash last week. With the way you're snapping at anyone who dares come close to you with peanut butter, I'm surprised no one else has realized it."

"I love peanut butter," Sansa grits out, as if just the name is enough to send her stomach turning.

"Sure you do. I'm sure the test was Meera's or something." Arya continues down the hallway, looking over her shoulder when Sansa doesn't follow her. "Aren't you coming? I can't be late to my own wedding, and I refuse to do my own hair today."

( O O O )

If Gendry had been glowing before, it's nothing compared to the way he's looking at her now.

She's got a whole aisle to walk down, and she's forever grateful for the way Ned and Cat support her as they walk beside her, her arms linked in theirs. She's sure she would have fallen over otherwise. Gendry had laughed at Jon's wedding because of the way he couldn't stop smiling, but he's _tearing up_ and Arya hopes Sansa got waterproof mascara. She'd forgot to ask because she'd assumed she wouldn't need it—she'd never cried at weddings before.

She should have known by now that anything that had to do with Gendry would leave her just a little weak in the knees.

Her father kisses her cheek before letting her go and her mother is already crying but Arya only has eyes for Gendry.

He takes her hands in his as soon she stands in front of him and he doesn't let go through the whole ceremony.

 _Good_ , Arya thinks, gripping his hands just as tightly. _Don't let go. I'm not._

( O O O )

"You should have worn a gown," Sansa remarks for the seventh time that night.

Arya stares resolutely at her plate. Sansa's picking at things she doesn't really care about, and she's been at it for an hour now, trying to get Arya to talk to her. She's not saying a word until Sansa admits she's pregnant.

"The color scheme doesn't match very nicely, you know," Sansa says. Arya bites into her cake and raises one eyebrow in the way she knows Sansa hates.

They both know Sansa doesn't mind that Arya decided to wear a very simple white dress that came down to her knees. They both know she doesn't think the china they picked out is rather flimsy. They both know Sansa is having a baby, but only Arya doesn't know why she won't admit it.

"Your cake is dry," Sansa states, and Arya breaks.

"It's the best goddamnn cake I've ever had in my life, and if you have anything else to say, you can say it to Hot Pie himself."

They stare at each other for a while, neither of them blinking.

"Alright, fine. I'm pregnant," Sansa hisses quietly.

Arya laughs out loud. Gendry looks over at her curiously, but Arya only puts her hand on his cheek and physically turns his head around. "Talk to my father. Important things are being discussed."

"More important than our _wedding_?" Gendry asks, his eyes alight with mirth.

"Dad, Gendry and I are considering having a child tonight. Here, talk to him about that."

She leaves Gendry to his own devices, stammering out something that sounds like _not for a long while, still need to get stable, don't have a big enough apartment_ , and Arya turns back to Sansa.

"Why won't you say anything?"

Sansa sighs. "It's your day."

Arya softens enough that she almost feels bad for leaving Gendry to the wolves. "Sansa..."

"I don't care if my wedding _was_ small, if anyone's attention had been on anything but our big day, I would have been fuming. Announcing you're pregnant right before your younger sister's wedding is like proposing during a reception."

She hesitantly takes Sansa's hand and is immensely relieved when she squeezes back. Years and years of fighting—they'd finally found peace and Arya didn't like reverting to old habits.

"I'm very happy for you," she says.

"I'm very happy for you, too."

Arya lets Sansa keep her secret. Today, she decides, belongs to her.

( O O O )

"Did you ever think you'd get married?" Arya asks quietly while they share their first dance.

"Yes. But like the way I always thought I'd go to college. I just assumed it'd happen. I never _hoped_ to get married until I started seeing you."

She shouldn't be turning red when she hears that—they've already gotten married. "Me, neither."

Gendry puts a finger under her chin and tilts her head up to look at him. "Hey," he says softly, "why are you embarrassed about that?"

"Because you're still so good at that, and I'm still so _not_. You make it so easy to talk about how much you love me."

"It's not easy, loving you."

Arya jerks her head up, panicked. " _What_?"

He laughs, pulling her in close and kissing the top of her head before spinning her. "It's not easy. It's _simple_. It's like breathing."

"Breathing is easy," Arya counters.

"Breathing is a reflex," he corrects. "So is loving you."

She doesn't know if she wants to kiss him or hit him. "You've got to stop doing that," she tells him.

"Do you promise to spend the rest of your life with me?" Gendry asks, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Of course," is her automatic answer.

"Then I don't need romantic speeches. If you ever started spewing them out, I'd get worried that you're feeling the need to convince yourself to still love me."

"Is that what you do?" she teases. "Convince yourself to still love me?"

"With you, never." Gendry lets her fall into a dip and her breath hitches until he catches her in his arms, drawing her up and kissing her. If Arya had been aware of anything else, she would have heard the way everyone in the room sighed. "I'll make you a deal. I'll save my romantic speeches for anniversaries only. Deal?"

It's only then that it hits her. She's going to have anniversaries with him. Anniversaries and birthdays and maybe even a child someday, and they'll show up to Ned and Cat's for lunch on Saturday afternoons. Sundays could be saved for visiting Jon and Ygritte, and she'd carve out a few hours for Sansa in the middle. Robb and Jeyne would ask them to babysit but they'd also ask them to go out for dinner.

And in the end, if they decided to switch lunch with her parents to Mondays, they could. They could visit Jon whenever they pleased and if she felt like seeing Sansa twice a week it would be fine. She'd celebrate anniversaries with him and he'd make his romantic speeches and they'd grow old, and if they ever wanted to switch anything, they _could_.

They had nothing but time now.

**Author's Note:**

> If you cried five times while reading, you still cried less than I did while writing it, so.
> 
> This has been a work in progress since about 2018 and finally getting to see it complete and finished is like, the best feeling ever. If you got to the end, my God thank you so much, I hope you liked it and that you would be kind enough to share your thoughts in the comments.
> 
> ariastarke on tumblr


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